


Winding Days

by imaginary_golux



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cogsworth needs a little help.  Written for the Disney kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winding Days

Cogsworth is deeply humiliated by the fact, not that he is a clock, but that he is a clock who occasionally needs to be wound up. Worse, he can’t reach the second key. It’s hidden in a…very embarrassing place, and his short wooden arms simply can’t reach that far. He’s tried.

Worse yet, the only person he can really trust to help him is Lumiere. Mrs. Potts doesn’t really have hands, and the maids and cups and…no. Just no. He could never retain his authority if he had to ask the underservants to help him with something so…humiliating.

He has managed to swear Lumiere to secrecy about the whole matter, and though the man – candlestick – is as annoying as a very annoying thing, he does keep his word. So he goes to Lumiere once a month in private, and Lumiere winds him up again, and no one else ever has to know. It would all be fine, and only a little humiliating, except that…

Except that apparently the human-form analog to his key is a very, very private place. So when Lumiere puts his hand – candle – on the key (half-melted wax grips well enough, if they’re careful), it sends shivers through Cogsworth’s whole body, and he has to wrap his hands around a railing or a bedstead and hold on tightly as Lumiere twists and twists, and Cogsworth bites his tongue and refuses to moan or cry out or beg for more, all of which he is deeply, deeply tempted to do.

Thankfully, Lumiere either hasn’t caught on, or has had the unexpected good sense and compassion not to say anything, because he never does anything more than wind the key up until it won’t go anymore, and pull his candle away, clap Cogsworth on the back, and leave. When he is gone, Cogsworth collapses on the floor and shivers all over and wishes he was a cuckoo clock so that at least he’d have some sort of an outlet for this feeling, and then he picks himself up and goes off to make sure the castle isn’t falling down yet. If he’s a little snippier than usual on winding-days, no one ever notices. And Lumiere – who is, after all, a good friend, despite everything – never says a thing.


End file.
